A kiss goodnight is never enough. Lips embracing, gentle foreplay. Time steps aside to let us play.
What was once gentle quickly becomes rough. A night alone, an accelerated romance. I seek no reason to reject your advance.
Serene, sensual smirk decorated with scruff. Tickling my thigh, tonguing my clit. I anticipate your cock penetrating my slit.
Nonchalant, but you called my bluff. Forcing me to scream in pleasure, pleading your name. Sex is the mere spark to our inevitable flame.
If I had a nickel
from every man who has told me
…that he always uses protection
…that I was the exception
…that he doesn’t usually do this
…that he just couldn’t help himself
Then perhaps I could afford
a small box of breath mints
to mask the stubborn taste of semen
permanently imprinted on my tongue.
The evening begins with seemingly innocent cuddles but quickly escalates to a finger in the mouth as a prelude to sex.
“You’re already getting wet for me, I like that,” he says. Dirty words spill out of his mouth.
I want to taste your pussy | You like that hard cock? | Baby, come for me one more time | Your pussy is so tight and juicy | You like my balls in your mouth? Make it nasty like that | You’re such a good girl | Oh so you like it deep in your throat like that? | Baby, yes, that’s so good | When you look at me with my dick in your mouth…that’s so hot | You want me to cum in your mouth? Want me to cum on your tits too?
Yes to the former, no to the latter. Swallowing him down and returning to cuddles, a shared intimacy pleasantly stumbled upon.
I wanted you.
You said you had a girlfriend and I said I didn’t mind.
You came in my mouth and slept in her bed.
I get off to your imminent regret.
“Come hold me,” message from a man I haven’t met. It may the witching hour, but a New Year’s resolution to say yes more than I say no makes the decision for me. Spontaneity lures me in.
Falling into his bed, mutual comfort found in a close embrace with a stranger. A kiss, a nibble, a touch, the night moves on.
Clothes scattered on the floor, his mouth on my breast, his finger stroking my vagina. He locks eyes with me as I moan. I could cum, but I’d rather hold off and be penetrated.
I nudge him onto his back, removing his boxers. The thickness surprises me. Nervous I won’t be able to fit him into my tiny mouth.
Still, I attempt. It’s a tight fit, but I’m having fun. He’s thick and soft, pleasant against my tongue.
“God that feels good,” the verbal gratitude begins. “Jesus! Did you want to have sex? You’re going to have to stop or I’m going to come. This is so good. Shit.”
I spread my legs on either side of him, grabbing hold of his smooth dick and placing him inside me.
He announces he’s going to come. Only a few moments passed since I even arrived at his apartment; the brevity makes us chuckle.
“I’m sorry,” he laughs at his own sexual blunder. “I don’t think I’ve come that quickly since I was twelve. I’ll make it up to you in the morning.”
I’m most comfortable sleeping in the beds of strangers.
A first date, a first drink. Making out in a parked car by a dirty river for dirty adults.
An officer, a perceived danger, a relocation to a basement.
“What can I do for you?” he asks with the taste of her pussy already on his breath.
Whiskey dick and a woman determined to fix it.
“What can I do for you?” silly boy asks again, when she’s already gotten off a few times. She takes what she wants so he doesn’t even need to ask.
Taking what she wants now, she straddles him on the couch, demanding his dick fill her up and requesting he cum in her pussy. Like a gentleman, he complies.
A knowing glance exchanged at the gym. A quick “hello.” A cool, perhaps cold, demeanor. A cautious look to see if anyone is watching.
I remember a belated birthday drink, or five. I remember confessing mutual attraction. I remember your hand on my thigh, my lips on your neck.
I rode your dick, I cried out your name, I swallowed your cum, but when did I undress? Faint marks on my neck suggest there is more to the story. Your neck appears unscathed, but I’m trying not to stare. Discretion.
Don’t worry, no one knows what we did. If it helps, I don’t even know what we did. But I intend to do it again.
A shirt removed, a beer knocked to the floor, we relocate to his bedroom.
One. He kisses his way down my soft, naked body and caresses my clit with his tongue. His hands on my thighs, pulling his face towards my cunt, I haven’t felt a man’s mouth on my pussy in far too long. Apparently I missed it more than I thought.
“By the way, you’re a great kisser,” he sounds surprised.
“You’re only saying that because we kiss the same. So naturally, I agree,” he seconds my conclusion.
Two. Perhaps I’m the only one who is still excited by missionary, who still becomes more aroused as I watch my man’s stiff member thrust in and out of me, feels sexy as he looks into my hungry eyes, screams as I claw at his back, swoons as his lips meet mine during intercourse.
“I’m a sucker for the post-coital stuff,” he kisses my forehead as we lay comfortably in his bed. Those words only make me more attracted to him; a perfect balance of sexual dominance and emotional sensitivity.
Three. He bites my neck and pinches my nipples.
“Let me know if it’s too much,” he’s hesitant, our first sexual encounter.
“Don’t worry, it won’t be,” I reassure him.
“Oh, is that so?” he asks. Harder. More forceful. He’s learning aggression turns me on.
He slaps my face hard enough to make it sting, and I like it. He hits me again and I moan. Squeezing my nipples, I feel the blood rush to my cunt. Hot and aroused, I don’t want him to stop hitting me. He doesn’t.
Four. I’m on all fours, he slides his dick in from behind. He’s thrusting hard and spanking my ass; I rub my own clit to take it up a notch. One more strike across my face and I’m content.
Pillow talk between rounds. His ex-girlfriends, his family, his job. My school, my submission, my blog. Mutual admiration for sex, writing, and cuddling. He’s attempting a novel, I’m cringing at my own. He holds me in his arms, analyzing my tattoos. I kiss him the way I would a genuine friend – with love and admiration – but we’ve only just met.
Five. “It’s a shame you don’t like being on top. I feel like with your submission, it could be quite fun.” A gentle hand on my throat accompanied by a playful slap demonstrate his point.
I admit I’m intrigued. We begin making out again, my enthusiasm for his idea made clear.
He holds me up by my throat as he enters me, keeping dominance from beneath me. Fast, rough, and he’s pinching my sensitive nipples again. He’s grunting and thrusting; unexpectedly, I’m perfectly comfortable on top of him.
His aggressive hand on the back of my head pulls me toward him as he whispers in my ear, “Tell me you want it. I want you to come.”
Four letter words tumble out of my mouth between moans and gasps for breath.
“Your cock feels….so good…just keep…pounding…my pussy…baby let me come…can I come on your dick?”
Panting, I collapse on top of him.
“Permission granted,” he smirks, pulling me next to him once again.
“You know, for being so much younger than me, you don’t feel very young,” he says. An eight year age difference, this is becoming expected of me.
“Yeah? Glad to hear it,” I don’t know how else to respond, though I’m pleased.
“But there is one thing that conveys your youth,” he continues. “Everything with you feels…new. Fresh. Enthusiastic. And I mean that in the best way.”
Six. Spooning, cuddling, he less-than-innocently reaches down my thigh. The anticipation makes me wet. I moan as he touches me, still craving his sex.
“You can go almost as long as I can,” he responds to my wetness. “Impressive.”
“Under the right circumstances,” I agree.
“And what are said circumstances?”
“When you fuck me the way you do.” I close my eyes and let him touch me, breathing in his scent and exhaling satisfaction.
Seven. Spooning again, he pulls one of my legs onto his shoulder, my other leg now inbetween both of his. I exhale as he enters me, caressing the length of my torso with his free hand.
“See? I can be gentle sometimes,” he jokes before he kisses me lightly.
“Didn’t know I could enjoy it,” I remark, holding his face in my hand. His scruffy facial hair complements his general demeanor.
Thrusting gently, appreciating every inch of him against my delicate inside, I’ve never felt so emotional during intercourse. I’m still holding his gaze as I finish one last time for the evening.
His. My head nestled into his shoulder, my hand travels down his strong, masculine body. I slide the condom off and toss it in the trash so I can stroke his shaft.
I run my tongue along his dick. Ignoring the taste of rubber, I’m excited to shift the focus to him after he’s been so generous. After an hour of intermittent intercourse, it doesn’t take much to get him off. My mouth around his dick, alternating between focusing on the head and deepthroating him.
I love the way he moans, the way he strokes my hair. Unafraid to loudly, verbally express his ecstasy.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he whispers his announcement as he grabs hold of my head. I feel his cock pulsating in my mouth just before he comes, then swallow him down.
He laughs. Not a subtle giggle, but a fit of laughter.
“Don’t worry, this always happens when I come,” he reassures me between breaths. “I suppose I’m just in high spirits.”
Odd, yet endearing, we embrace as he laughs into exhaustion.
“What’s the biggest turn on you find in a guy?” my handsome first date asks, his hand resting on my knee, eyes wide with curiosity, nipping at the perpetually thickening sexual tension on his couch.
“Someone who takes control,” I reply with confidence. “I like a man who’s not afraid to dominate me.”
Right on cue, he pulls me onto his lap to make out. Each of us eagerly explores the consenting body of the other, a new play toy. Any lingering drops of hesitation have fallen away.
His lips on mine, my neck, my tits. Warm mouth kissing my sensitive neck, his fingers caressing me from the inside, he spanks me; my soft, staccato screams are accompanied by a jolt of ecstasy. I didn’t know anyone could excel at fingering - today I learned.
He chuckles as he lends me a hand undoing his complicated belt. Pulling down his sailboat boxers, I see his dick is hard, begging to be licked. I eagerly wrap my mouth around him.
“Do you want me to cum or do you want to take this further?”
“Further,” I answer with a reflexive smile, my answer obvious.
He rips his shirt off. “Let’s go to my room.”
I follow, tights and underwear off, my dress still on out of habit. Only now do I reflect on this strange habit.
I wait anxiously on his bed as he grabs a condom. Leaving it on the bed for a moment, we make out while he fingers me again. I can’t get over how great he feels, highlighting and stroking every inch between my legs. About to cum already, I can’t wait for him to fuck me.
He thrusts quickly and forcefully, but with control. My cunt feels completely full with his dick. With my legs up on his shoulders, he rubs my clit to amplify the sensation. I get off far earlier than I expected, still catching my breath as he fucks me.
Legs over my head, his sweaty forehead pressed against my own, both moaning with pleasure and desire, I suspect this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
Date with an engineer. Straight, white man. Atheist. Middle income. Dry humor. Boring. Unsociable. Awkward, at best.
She rises from her coffee shop table, strutting to the counter to engage the barista instead. Outgoing and foolish, she is perpetually attracted to scummy men.
“You’re on a date?” he asks.
”He’s so BORING!” the tequila makes her giggle with one strange man at the expense of another.
“Hey lady, when you’re done with him, let’s chill,” handing her his phone so she will input her number. She complies; anything to make her evening more interesting.
He grabs two orange sodas for the rum before closing up the store. Her date is long gone; he knows this adventure-craving hipster chick will not be calling.
Two hours of platonic hanging out. She sips her rum as he smokes his pot. The combination of intoxicating substances with an intoxicating new bond produces an instant friendship.
”I think you’re really cool, and sexy, and I don’t know where you want this to go, but just so you know there’s a lady I’m kind of in love with,” he offers a disclaimer as their flirtation develops.
“Not trying to be your girlfriend,” she laughs at the thought of lowering herself to his level. “I’m hopelessly in love as well, but I still intend to fuck the shit out of you tonight.”
Her Statement of Intent delivered, and well received. He lays her on her back and it becomes he who delivers. She receives three times that evening.
An excellent end to an awful date. And none for Gretchen Weiners.